Breadcrumbs
by Sandra E
Summary: As for wolves, these come in all variations and among them, the gentle wolves are the most dangerous of all, particularly those who follow young girls into the streets, even into their homes.


Psst. A little unresolved analyzing never hurt anyone. Or so I've heard.

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Title: Breadcrumbs

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Author: Sandra

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Category: Humor

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Spoilers: Obscure references to _The Three Phases of Claire_.

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Rating: PG-13, for extreme silliness and mild sexual overtones.

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Summary: _As for wolves, these come in all variations; and among them the gentle wolves are the most dangerous of all, particularly those who follow young girls into the streets, even into their homes_. —Bruno Bettelheim.

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Disclaimer: Don't own; would appear on show by now, otherwise.

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Author's **Notes**: Inspired by Pipsqueak's _Living_ _on_ _the_ _Edge_. Concept borrowed from _Northern_ _Exposure_. I usually refrain from pure dialogue, however, this time, only the voices came. Adjectives were, regretfully, left behind.

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Feedback: Well, duh.

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Etc: To Mags—impetus for the dissertation.

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As for wolves, these come in all variations;_ and among them the gentle wolves are the most dangerous of all, particularly those who follow young girls into the streets, even into their homes_.

—Bruno Bettelheim

"Darien?"

"Right."

"What, or better yet, _why_ the getup?"

"Oh, this old thing? Threw it together this morning."

"I see. Is this another American tradition you claim exists, but doesn't really?"

"Nah, Keep, this one's deep."

"Deep. Ah. And the—the wolf clothing, what is that about?"

"What's it look like? I'm the subconscious manifestation of your primal male fantasy fixations."

"...Oh."

"What's in the basket?"

"Uh... counteragent. I think. Can we go back to that male fantasy fixation you were talking about?"

"Primal male fantasy fixation. You know, grr. Me boy, you girl, we be good bad together."

"I see."

"No, you don't."

"No, I don't."

"So, where ya goin', Keep?"

"Well, unless I'm about to wake up screaming, I believe I was on my way to the Official."

"Forget the Official. Official's history. I had him for breakfast."

"What?"

"He was just the embodiment of your obsessive unfulfilled need for the critical parent, anyway."

"Darien, I know your mental geology is shifting dramatically as of late, but you must control—"

"Mental geology?"

"Well, uh, you caught me unprepared."

"How? It's your dream."

"It is really? Well, then—you get out. Now. Shoo. Off. Away. Be gone."

"Do that cute little nose thing, and I'll think about it."

"Cute nose th—I'm not a bloody stereotype, you silly man. Go 'way."

"Will do, but first, tell me something, Keep. Why the red hood? Why not green or chartreuse?"

"Well, if you must know, Eberts says it complements my complexion."

"Nuh uh. Try raw. Try violent. Try _sex_, sister."

"It's just a hood, Darien!"

"But it's your dream."

"...If it were really my dream, you wouldn't be here. There is NO scientific basis whatsoever for you being here, and—"

"Then explain this whole feministic setup. You could've made me a frog."

"I don't particularly like frogs. I've dissected one too many."

"You're real big on this too much info sharing, aren't you? Prince Charming, then."

"It would've interfered with my conventionalism, and you know as well as I do that perhaps I've been irreversibly influenced by emotional strata from different times and places in my life—Darien, what's the point of this?"

"You know the story. Girl meets wolf, wolf eats the Official, wolf eats Keep, Rumpelstiltskin shows up, saves Keep, kills pervert wolf. As utopianism goes, you're far off, sister."

"So, you're saying I'm incorporating my recent, erm, lapse into a delirious analysis that's been broadly contextualized to take into account concerns that are not limited to my aesthetic and sociopolitical history?"

"...I'm saying I ain't the only one seeing lights 'cause I'm horny."

"..."

"All right. Let's go."

"W-where?"

"The way I see it, your fear of alienation doesn't conflict with your concept of romanticism, and also, there's the sex deprivation."

"Darien."

"Hey. Your dream."

"This is bloody ridiculous."

"I don't know. I kinda like it. It's very un-stereotypical, in a stereotypical kind of way. Thinking someone reversed roles here."

"That—_that_ is utterly unfounded. The fundamentals of gender stereotypes changed as far back as the sixteenth—"

"All very interesting, Dr. Freud. Why'd you make me all furry? No, wait, let me guess; it's a beauty and the beast kind of thing, right? I'm hurt. Really, huge, gaping hole right here."

"I—no—that's not... Hmm, now that you mention it..."

"—Great. Just freakin' peachy. You callin' me ugly, my friend?"

"Oh, do shut up. This obviously isn't about looks, or you'd be riding a winged carriage in Fabio's naked body."

"Fabio?"

"Shut up."

"The nose guy?"

"Shut up, Darien."

"With the hair?"

"Darien, I'll tear off your limb and beat you with the wet end."

"I heard about that. Again with the sexual frustration. Ow. So, beast territory?"

"I suppose you haven't seen the Cocteau or Koslow productions?"

"I saw the Disney one. Disney counts."

"Disney does NOT count! The whole western culture industry has been built around Cinderella and Hallmark. But you never see what happens to the evil stepsisters, and no one ever gets punished for being evil, and _why_ in the bloody hell would I want you?"

"You did _see_ me, right?"

"...Right."

"So, we goin'?"

"Going where?"

"Keepie, your ideological rationalism isn't exactly gonna save you from what happened."

"What _did_ happen?"

"You know—you, me, almost grr."

"Oh, that."

"So, let's go."

"No."

"Why not? I got a nice little place out in the forest. Granted, not exactly the Hilton, but there's running water and a place to hang up your stockings—"

"Well, uh, see, there's Rumpelstiltskin."

"Hobbes?"

"Mh hmm."

"What about him?"

"Well, no, see, it's not _exactly_ about him—"

"Okay, then, let's go—"

"No, wait. See—see, remember the three little pigs?"

"Blew their house down. Yes. What about them?"

"Right. It's just that, do you wonder why it's always three?"

"No."

"Three little pigs, the, uh, Holy Trinity, and geometry!—Try forming a complete figure without three distinct points. You can't."

"What's your point?"

"Three symbolizes perfection. Safety, you know? Basic unit of family?"

"Ah."

"Yes, so, you see, I can't go with you. Not right now, at least."

"Off with their heads and all that."

"Off with the company pier, more like it. Plus, you know, there'd be trouble. Red tape and yellow ribbons. Risk, etcetera. And while we _have_ been gaining influence whereby the romantically restrictive power held by secret agencies, dominant lobby groups, and governments is being challenged by individuals and subgroups like us, who push on and—"

"Aw, crap. Look, if we're not going to have hot monkey sex, maybe you should, you know, wake up?"

"Probably."

"Right. Call me when you've worked through your essentialism issues."

"I do not have—okay."

"Let me just click my heels couple times and I'll be out of your hair."

"Oh, Darien, wait."

"What?"

"Since this IS _my_ dream, I think I would be okay with the whole, um, red hood thing, if we invite Rumpelstiltskin."

"...Like, to watch or something?"

"Ah, not exactly. Three, remember?"

"Yeah, uh. Gotta go."

"Right. The whole when the clock strikes thing, eh?"

"Sure, why not?"

"You're going to come back, though?"

"Yeah, yeah, leave me a trail of breadcrumbs, and I'll see what I can do."

"Excellent."


End file.
